Aamu
A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides
And if life wasn't complicated enough already, try wanting to hug everyone you meet (regardless of if you know them or not). It's been a strange few weeks of Aamu alternating between avoiding people and struggling not to pounce on them (his success rate has gone up, slightly), trying to figure out the safe distance at which not to trigger this strange, barely containable desire for physical closeness—And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides
He's somewhere just on the line of it. Somewhere in the region of desperately needing to go up to the man and wrap his arms around him while also desperately needing to get the fuck away. It's one thing to know he lost everything, another to see someone with a friend's silhouette and knowing that you can't have them back, ever.
But the
The way he moves. The way he wears his hair. The profile of his face.
His voice.
“Is it really you?” he asks of the white-haired ghost, who simply gurgles inelegantly in response and refuses to question his own sanity. Even if this is just a figment of his imagination he'll take it, and cry about it later—
Everything collapses in him. Why resist when it is your friend, who should be dead? He's already bridging the distance between them, throwing his arms around the other Ascended. (Feels a bit unusual when he's only got one arm. Like there's something missing. Hmm.) Hug first, think later.
But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I
And someday that wolf would be I
